Not This Time
by wintergreen825
Summary: Being the Master of Death was often a boring way to walk through the multiverse. Occasionally, Harry would find things to entertain himself. Which is why he was paying attention to when the daughter of one of his favorite mortals was suddenly fading out of exist in a tidal wave of temporal interference. Well, the upside of being pissed off was that he wasn't bored.
1. Something's Wrong

**Legal Disclaimer:** I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

**Warning:** This work may be offensive to some readers. Feel free to back out if that's you.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so this is our new adventure, folks. And there will be a _lot of salt_. Probably the one that needs to be addressed before y'all get confused in the story is that nowhere in the MCU canon does Tessa Thompson's character get an actual _name_, unless you count the Grandmaster's "Scrapper 42" (which I don't as it falls into the same category as "Valkyrie" as a name). When you remove a character's name and replace it with a job, you are removing their personhood. "Marine" is not a name, no matter how much you may claim that it is respectful or a memorial. Before anyone thinks to use this defense: _interviews and wiki entries are not canon_. Since the MCU has elected to not give the character a name in canon, and the apocrypha's suggestion has _issues_ given the actress, the Last Valkyrie will be known in this work as _Eir_ and the Valkyrie that we see in her flashback (and who matches the comics version of the character) will bear the name _Brunnhilde_.

**Last Note from Author:** This fic is not favorable to abusive characters, no matter how beloved they are. Therefore, if you are a fan of characters like Thor or any of the members of "Team Cap", this fic will not be to your liking. Save both our time and just leave. Complaining about this will not achieve anything.

**Submitting Info:**  
**Stacked with:** Hogwarts (Term 10); MC4A (SN; SuBingo; FPC; BAON; ToS; StL; Star; Fence; ER)  
**Individual Challenges:** Forehead Kisses; Misunderstood; Gryffindor MC; Death's Inevitable Master; Metahuman MC (x3); World Hopping; Mastermind MC; Medic MC; Hitter MC; Bender MC; Brush; Seeds; Tissue Warning; The Third Phase (Y); Marvelous Cinema; New Fandom Smell (Y) [MCU]; Old Shoes [HP]; Team Logic (Y); Themes & Things A [Death]; Themes & Things B [Protection]; Trope It Up C [Time Travel]; The 3rd Rule; Ethnic & Present; Tiny Terror; Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Short Jog; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux;  
**House:** Hufflepuff  
**Assignment No.:** Term 10 – Assignment 12  
**Other Hogwarts Challenges:** Insane Prompts [883] (Fantasy); 365 [43] (Brother); Scavenger Hunt [64] (Family); Gym [Quotation] (FDR);  
**Space Address (Prompt):** 3D (Explosion)  
**Representation(s):** Eir (Valkyrie); Master of Death Harry Potter; Thor  
**Bonus Challenges: **Eternal Boredom; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Second Verse (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; White Dress; Sneeze Weasel; Middle Name; Nightingale; Unwanted Advice); Chorus (Pear-Shaped; Machismo; Peddling Pots; Tomorrow's Shade)  
**Tertiary Bonus Challenges:** SN (Rail; Negate)  
**Word Count:** 2270 words

(^^)  
**Not This Time  
Part 1:** Something's Wrong  
(^^)

The air shivered in a way that she knew accompanied the use of magic. It had been nearly two thousand years since the last time she had felt that outside of Loki's stunts on Sakaar and the destruction of Asgard. The small colony of surviving Asgardians mixed with the former slaves of Sakaar that made up New Asgard had a distinct lack of magi. Thor, with his few but potent gifts, was about the sum of it outside of the arts that she had abandoned when she had lost herself in her grief.

Now there was magic in her presence, in this place where magic was supposed to be extinct, and around those who had just been entrusted into her care. Her blades were out before she had fully turned to face the area that had become saturated with the energy. Thankfully, the move had also silenced Thor's speech about worthiness, which meant that she was facing the new person with no distractions.

Other than the dark tan skin and lack of height, the man closely resembled Loki, even wearing the dark greens and blues that Loki had favored along with black. The dark clothing was reminiscent of the peasant clothing of the Asgard she left behind after Hela had massacred the other Valkyrie. His green eyes calmly met hers as the man just stood there, his arms full of a small child who could not have seen more than five turns of the seasons. The girl sleeping in his arms did nothing to make him seem less dangerous. If anything, it made her instincts scream that he was even more dangerous with the girl than he would have been without her.

"Lady Eir," he greeted, barely glancing at Thor behind her.

That was another thing that she had not heard in millennia. Even amongst the surviving Asgardians, no one had asked for her name. Everyone used the honorable title that had once been hers before she had abandoned it along with everything else. Loki had known it, even if he had never used it outside of the single command he had given when the _Dark Aster_ had borne down on their ship. Thor had never asked, calling her only by her former association like it was the only name she had any claim over. To Hulk (and consequentially, Bruce), she would always be Angry Girl, the only friend he had on Sakaar.

"Who?" Thor asked with honest confusion. The way he wore his heart on his sleeve was admittedly something that she appreciated about the would-be king. It was a diplomatic nightmare, especially combined with his impulsive habit, but after centuries of working for Odin and Hela, the lack of masks in a member of the royal family was refreshing. His question still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Who are you?" she demanded, not lowering her weapons. The man continued to stare at her. The green of his eyes was glacial hard and just as sharp as they assessed her defensive posture. For all that the boy looked barely out of youth, those eyes were ancient, burdened beyond what any youth should be. The Trickster's eyes had held that same ache, especially after he had invaded her memory to view her greatest shame. That begged a slightly different question, one that came out of her mouth before she could stop it. "What are you?"

"I should think that a Valkyrie would recognize both," the man answered. "I would think, also, that you specifically would recognize me."

"_Death_," she breathed. Instantly, she dropped to her knees with her arms held away from her sides. Her eyes never left the entity's own, even as Thor sucked in a breath behind her.

"Hela was destroyed with Asgard," Thor declared. Death blinked before shifting his gaze to the god of thunder as if just then noticing him. She saw something flicker in that emerald gaze as the entity examined the man. An indulgent smile bloomed on his youthful face.

"Adorable," Death replied, "you truly believe that one of my chosen agents can be destroyed."

"Hela was destroyed," Thor repeated, though he did not sound as certain as he had. Death continued looking like he was watching a puppy stumbling over a ball. Thor puffed up as he pulled the mantle of his royal confidence about himself once more. She suddenly wished to be able to zap him with the touch of a button again, bristling at the disrespect being shown to something beyond merely a _god_, something beyond even a being like the Grandmaster. "Who are you?"

"I am Death," the entity said simply as if it were no more important than stating the weather and directly contrasting every declaration of status that the Asgardian royalty had made in her presence. It even lacked the desperate undertone that Loki had always used, as if he were trying to convince his audience of the words. A small part of her missed the wily sorcerer, even if she could not allow herself the luxury of drowning in grief a second time. Death's gaze shifted back to her with another flicker of emotion hidden in the depths. His tone was kind when he continued. "But you may call me _Harry_."

"That's a child's name," she observed without judgement. He tilted his head to the side as if contemplating that. Absently, he ran a hand down the child's back despite how their conversation had not disturbed her sleep.

"I suppose it is," he agreed. "It is short for _Haridard_."

She wanted to weep as the All-Speak whispered the translation of the Midgardian name like it did the many tongues spoken on the world and in the realm. What did it say for the incarnation of Death to be named _He who takes away suffering_? Had not that very thought haunted her these past millennia as she tried to drink away the loss of her fellow Valkyrie? Death could be cruel, yes, but by the Norns, it could also be kind.

"Why have you come, Lord Haridard?" she asked, still on her knees before him. He blinked at her before gesturing for her to rise. Ever graceful, she did.

Behind her, Thor choked a bit in what must have been shock. Sheathing her blades, she closed her eyes as she reminded herself that Thor had been but a babe when the Valkyrie were slain. If he knew anything about them at all, it would have been tales of them as sworn servants of the throne of Asgard. The fact that they were the chosen warriors of Death before anything else would not have been something Odin would have approved to be passed down. Thor had not studied the myths and legends as Loki had. A child could be forgiven their ignorance, and despite how much older he was than Midgardians, by the terms of Asgard, Thor was barely into adulthood.

It was still difficult to give him even more leeway after having already given him so much and having just listened to him abandoning his responsibilities on a more permanent basis.

"I have need of your particular services, Lady Eir," Haridard said. He laid his hand on the girl's dark hair, drawing her attention to the child. Watching closer now, she saw that the child was more of a solid spirit than a flesh and blood child. Her eyes darted back to his, a seed of horror growing in her gut. Surely what she was beginning to fear could not be true. She felt sick when he silently nodded.

"Who?" she whispered, not knowing if she was referring to the erased child he held or the person who had tampered with the universe in such a way that erased her.

She had heard of what had been done to defeat the Mad Titan. She had _felt_ the shifting sands of time as it had all happened and had barely been able to summon enough power to protect the denizens of New Asgard from the inevitable ripples such meddling always left. When the universe had settled with only those turned to dust returned and none of those born in the wake of the Snapping being removed, she had believed it was over.

Yet Death stood before her with a child in need of restoration, a child whose very existence must be vital if it warranted his personal interference.

"Her name is Morgan Halcyon Stark," Haridard declared. His eyes hardened as he shifted his gaze towards Thor. His voice held all the rage of a marauding frost giant when he continued. "Her father is Anthony Edward Stark, Iron Man."

"But the Man of Iron never sired any children," Thor protested, weak in the face of such cold anger. "I would know. We are friends."

"_Friends_," Haridard spat with a sneer. "You would have murdered him in a fit of rage, Son of Odin, and for a crime he had not even committed. You would have strangled him while he stared at the corpse of his murdered child over your shoulder. All this without even a hint of regret. If that is your show of friendship, it leaves much to be desired."

"You don't under—"

"You'd be surprised, Son of Odin," Haridard interrupted, "by what I understand. You would never understand what it is like to be cursed with knowledge, to be burdened with power that you never asked for and would give away in a heartbeat if it meant having a family." The green of his eyes glowed as he glared at the god of thunder. "You grieve for an idea, Son of Odin, the brother who always fixed your messes no matter how many blows you landed upon him. If you were even half the man that he believed you to be, I could forgive it. But you aren't. You have chosen to merely uphold your father's legacy instead. I have walked many universes, Son of Odin, and this version of you flatters no one."

"Have care how you speak, mortal!"

"Or what?" Haridard challenged, not even attempting to correct Thor's assertion about his mortality. "Will you attack me? Will you rip off my limbs and beat me with them? Strike me with lightning like a heretic of old?"

"I LOVED MY BROTHER!" Thor roared, stepping forward only to smack into her outstretched arm. "I _loved_ him!"

"Then prove it, Son of Odin," Haridard commanded. "Be the king he had faith that you could become."

"What do you need me to do, my lord?" she asked, redirecting the entity's attention to herself. Protecting the Asgardians had been Loki's last request of her, no matter how sharply it had been phrased. For better or worse, Thor definitely was Asgardian, even if the relationship between the pair had been strained when the Trickster had met his death. Haridard breathed deeply before answering her.

"I require someone to anchor the child." He pressed a kiss to Morgan's forehead. "If she fades completely, not even I will be able to fix the broken threads to restore her. I need my hands free as I travel the stream of this universe to find the point where the mess was made."

"I have not acted as a healer in many years," she admitted, feeling the weight of those years upon her shoulders. "I abandoned everything about that life."

"My dear Lady Eir," he countered, "you did abandon everything, but you are still the goddess who wielded both healing and vengeance with equal skill. Even trapped in the Realm of the Lost, you wielded those aspects. Even surrounded by those without even the common decency to ask for your name, you continued to act with compassion in both regards. Lady Eir, you are still a healer."

"I need to stay in New Asgard," she said, even as she reached for the child that he held. Without speaking, he passed over his precious bundle. It had been almost two millennia since she had held a child so young, as the few Asgardian children were physically older as well as having decades on the tiny Midgardian now resting in her arms. For a moment, she choked on the trust being shown to her. Then she forced herself to speak. "Is there anything that I should know, my Lord Death?"

"If she wakes," Haridard answered carefully, "she may be hungry. The time sickness might upset her stomach, but if you can get her to eat and keep anything down…"

"Do you truly think you'll be gone that long?" she asked. A trickle of worry slid down her spine. Anchoring someone who had been erased from time was not an easy task, only truly possible for those tied directly to the universal forces. As a Valkyrie, she was tied to Death, but the child had faded while anchored by Death itself. Failure seemed inevitable, and the idea of failing the entity stung worse than the memory of losing her Brunhilde.

"I do not know how long it will take to fix things," Haridard admitted. "I still have to figure out what went awry to remove the one thing that my Merchant asked to be protected. As long as you stay within eyesight of her, she should be safe. I trust you, Eir of the Valkyrie. You have always chosen well."

She ran a hand down the girl's back like Haridard had. Without waking, Morgan curled into her. Haridard pressed a final kiss to the girl's forehead before stepping away. He gave her a wink before disappearing with a final quip.

"Good luck getting the idiot to understand what's going on."


	2. The Mechanic

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

**Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. There are multiple references to canon incidences of abuse & violence. There's also references to massive casualties, both potential and past. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and during reading.

**Author's Note(s):** Okay. Magi here. First off, I am so freaking sorry for taking so long on this chapter. I'm honestly kind of shocked that Gwen didn't tie my ass to a chair some time in the _last year_ and force me to focus on this instead of other things, but then again, if they had, I probably wouldn't have made as much progress on my thesis as I have and that's probably more important.

**Challenge/Competition Block**:  
**Stacked with:** MC4A  
**Team (Position): **Wigtown Wanderers (Keeper)  
**Round Info:** Season 08 – Round 07  
**QL Prompt(s)s:** n/a  
**Individual Challenges:** Gryffindor MC; Magical MC; Immortal MC (Y); Neurodivergent; Rian-Russo Inversion; Ethnic & Present; Disabled; Ship Sails; Hold the Mayo; Future Era; Inevitable; The Real MC; Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y); Green Ribbon; Short Jog; Old Shoes (Y); Old Shoes (Y); Marvelous Cinema; Endings; Gwen's HP Checklist [MoD Harry]; Skittles [Bi Masc]  
**Other MC4A Challenges (Prompt):** SpB [4D](Renewal); TrB [4D](Back from the Dead); SuB [4D](Sickle/Scythe); AU [2E](Afterlife/Underworld); Hunt [Su Writing Diversity](ADHD); Ship [Sp Micro 2](Fusion with Another Fandom); Chim [Joyce](n/a); Fire [Hard](Nontraditional Family); Garden [Crossover Galore](Race-Bent AU)  
**Representation:** ADHD Tony Stark; Desi Harry Potter as Master of Death/Death; Harry/Tony QPR  
**Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenge(s):** Eternal Boredom; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Second Verse (Nontraditional Family; Zucchini Bread; Middle Name; Spinning Plates; Unwanted Advice); Chorus (Endless Wonder; Pear-Shaped; Wabi Sabi; Bee Haven; Machismo; Peddling Pots; Fire Song; Tomorrow's Shade)  
**Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges:** T3 (Thimble); SN (Rail; Intercept); War (Orator; Sanctuary; Ennui)  
**Word Count**: 2161

-= LP =-  
**Not This Time**  
Part 02: The Mechanic  
-= LP =-

Harry twisted into a space shrouded in shadows. This area wasn't supposed to be like this, and for a long while, it _hadn't been_. No matter what universe, Tony Stark was definitely one of his favorites, and thus always got any accommodations he desired. Just a few days ago, this portion had been a futuristic workshop full of gleaming surfaces and interfaces glowing crisp blue and golden orange. Stark had been content with his death, at rest with the knowledge that his children were alive and well.

Now the man was building again, resolutely hammering away at another rendition of the Iron Man suit.

This change more than anything had been what had alert Harry to the destruction of this universe's timestream. Harry had quickly looked in on Stark's many children. A few of them had already faded completely out of existence, unraveled by whatever had been changed. He had barely managed to collect the youngest in time. Even with the time lock he had put on little Morgan (and would be maintained by Eir), he needed to reset the timeline as quickly as possible or remove her from her native timeline completely.

To figure out what had been changed, Harry needed someone familiar with the way it was supposed to be. He needed someone tied by inevitability to the world, who was capable of seeing multiple predictive paths at once. He needed someone who had managed to be outside the initial ripples of change. There was really only one person who fit the bill.

Harry needed Iron Man.

"Are you here to spy on me?" the genius asked suddenly, ceasing his work. Harry focused on him as he was now presenting. Tony was dirty and bruised, his hair greasy but in the way that suggested that it had repeatedly gotten wet without being washed. His clothes were in a similar state of use, as if he had been wearing them for a long while. From his chest, an ARC reactor glowed a sickening white that suggested it was a Mark I version. His eyes had bruises beneath them, like he hadn't been sleeping for longer than just the few days that things had changed in.

"No, Tony," Harry answered simply. "Do you remember who I am?"

Sometimes the dead recognized him, especially his favorites. Most of the time, it was just his chosen agents who did—his blessed ones. But Tony Stark was, across the entirety of the multiverse, first and foremost his Merchant. It was very, very rare for any version of him not to recognize Harry for what he was, even when he had no clue _who_ he was.

"You are," Tony started only to trail off in confusion. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it of something. "I know you, but I don't remember who you are. Which is strange, because I remember everything even when I don't want to. Eidetic memory: it's a curse more often than it's a blessing. So I should remember you, even if we just met in passing while I was halfway to sloshed and more focused on getting my beak wet—You know what's weird here? I normally talk when I'm anxious but I'm not normally this revealing about the process behind the curtain."

"The dead tend to be more honest," Harry said, knowing that a smile was on his face. He couldn't help it if watching Tony work through the conundrums of the afterlife was sheer poetry in motion. Even in death, that mind could not stop working. Harry spread his hands in a gesture to indicate hopelessness. "Especially when talking to me. Death is honest, and thus so are those within my realm."

"So I'm dead," Tony said. He looked at the dark space around him. His nose wrinkled briefly as a muscle twitched in his cheek. Just when Harry had been tempted to give into the urge to snicker at how unimpressed the genius was with what his afterlife had become, Tony's expression shifted to defeated resignation. "I should have known that I end up back here. Why couldn't Romanoff and Rogers have been wrong just this once?"

"Excuse me," Harry snapped at the question. The flames in the makeshift forge popped and crackled as the coals burst into flames. "Those two, along with their little crew of sycophants, couldn't figure out the right way to pour water out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. They were especially wrong in the majority of their interactions with you. Why in the name of all that is decent about the world do you claim that they're correct in something now?"

"I deserved this," Tony answered as he looked around the space again. "I had been so blind to everything, just going through the motions. I designed weapons because that's what Dad had done and it's what the board expected. I should have paid closer attention to the weapons. I shouldn't have trusted the system to do it—when has there ever been a system that I couldn't improve? And I just…"

"You trusted a man who had always been there for you," Harry finished. He fiddled with some loose pieces of metal littering the makeshift table near him. Guilt may be something Harry was familiar with but that never made it easier to handle, especially in others. "You trusted the man that your father did. That is not a flaw. It does not mean you deserve to relive this place."

"Don't I?"

"Let me present an alternative explanation, then." Harry dropped the scraps to spread his arms. "Up until three days ago, this place did not look like this. It was brightly lit and sparkling clean. You were at peace, lost in pure creation."

"That sounds like heaven," Tony muttered. He lifted the mallet in his hand as he examined it. His eyes were nearly black in the dimness when they suddenly snapped to Harry's. "What happened? Why am I back here instead?"

"I believe you are seeking to escape," Harry answered bluntly. Tony looked like he was going to deny it, but Harry waved his hand to dismiss the would-be denial. "You're one of my favorites, you know. I seek you out in countless universes, not always as I am now. I know your moods as well as I know my own. This is always your reflection for escape, across all those universes." Harry looked around the cave himself. "Mine's a boot cupboard, locked from the outside. Yours at least smells better."

"You're not here to stop me?" Tony asked suspiciously. "Can you even escape death?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted. "No one can escape death, not even me. But I'm also not here to stop you. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm here to ensure it."

"Okay, now I know that something major happened."

"Someone altered time too much," Harry said. "There was already a fine tangle going on, because of that whole Thanos mess—good work on that, by the way. Even if that particular Thanos wasn't being a creepy stalker, he was still overtaxing my agents with his ridiculous scheme that didn't even have the common sense innate in rocks. The universe is well shod of him."

"Creepy stalker?" Tony asked as he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "This I've got to hear."

"In some universes, Thanos' goal was to court Death—as in get Death to fall in love with him and then live happily ever after with her."

"How does that even _work_? Since when is creating more work for someone a seduction technique?"

"I've yet to meet a version of Thanos that was actually smart enough to realize that creating more dead isn't the gift he thinks it is." Harry tapped his chin. "I suppose he's a bit like a cat in that regard…a very large, very purple, very _annoying_ cat."

"I never was a cat person."

"Honestly, they grow on you," Harry said, "but yes, they can be an acquired taste."

"So," Tony said after a beat, dragging out the syllable, "the way we took out Thanos created a tangle?"

"Oh, yes, because you killed him and most of his Order before they could, well, live roughly a decade more of their lives. The fact that the Infinity Stones were present at the time was actually a boon, as it softened the paradox wave enough to prevent the resulting cascade from upending the universe entirely. Returning the Stones to their proper places also kept the timeline from splitting. By all accounts, everything should be stable now."

"I'm sensing a major 'but' coming."

"_But_," Harry continued with a grin, "something triggered another wave of changes. People started dying or disappearing—"

"Like they had never been born?" Tony interrupted. He took a step towards Harry with one hand out. "My kid—Morgan—is she…?"

"I managed to get to her in time," Harry reassured, catching Tony as he fell to his knees in relief and going down with him. "But her condition is…delicate. The magic used to bind her will eventually fail." Harry gave a wry smile. "Even death must yield to entropy, just as infinity must yield to eternity. Those are the four universal constants, after all."

"How long does she have?" Tony asked evenly. He looked like he was bracing for a blow, and Harry couldn't blame him. The news was not great. Morgan had been why Tony had done things the way that he had, even though acting with the delicateness necessary had ultimately cost him so much—had cost them all so much.

And someone had rendered that sacrifice worthless.

"If the timeline is not restored, I wager less than a full day," Harry answered. Tony closed his eyes as if pained. His lips moved silently, tracing the words of a prayer Harry knew he only half believed. Harry gave him a moment before continuing again. "Time is not an exact line from one point to the next. It is a river that branches and rejoins constantly. It is a flowing sea current that ebbs and flows and hides riptides just as easily as it laps at the shore. Ripples are not uncommon either because people just can't help themselves from messing about for their own purposes."

"You mentioned a wave," Tony prompted. His eyes had a glint of determination now that he had opened them again. He did not hesitate to meet and hold Harry's gaze. Shadows moved around them, shifting restless, as the darkness began to lighten. Behind Tony, a figure began to materialize. "There was a wave of changes, you said."

"Terrible things _can_ happen when people meddle with time." Harry could nearly hear Hermione's huffy explanation, no matter that it was eons ago for him. He forced himself to focus on the genius in front of him instead of the lost one of his memory. "However, terrible things rarely do. One or two things or even a handful of them aren't enough to truly alter the course that time takes in its meandering. Time tends to smooth out those tangles before it becomes too much. But pull the right thread and things begin to unravel, which is when the natural order of the universe sets itself to correcting the mistakes, oftentimes aggressively."

"That comment about upending the universe wasn't a turn of phrase," Tony asked weakly, "was it?"

Harry shook his head. Tony closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to prepare himself for another question that he already suspected the answer for. Harry waited. In the end, Tony asked his question without opening his eyes, and Harry couldn't blame him.

"There's more at stake than just my Morgan, isn't there?"

"Without knowing the cause of this secondary wave, I cannot say for sure. I have my suspicions, and that is all."

"And what are you suspicions?"

"Even without any other major changes, it is likely that the universe is unstable enough for an incursion to occur next time another universe comes near enough. Depending on how stable _that_ universe is, that will result in the end of at least _this_ universe, possibly both. Since universes don't die quietly, the resulting collapse is likely to take out any _other_ universes in the immediate vicinity, regardless of their stability."

Tony shuddered at the magnitude of that destruction. Harry understood the horror. Witnessing the death of a single universe was bad enough, even to a being such as him. To a mortal man, no matter how brilliant, it had to be far worse. If it had been anyone else, Harry knew it would have been incomprehensible.

But Tony Stark had always done the impossible.

Tony opened his eyes and once more met Harry's gaze. Over the genius' shoulder, the Mark I armor glared defiantly at the cave. Tony's voice was as fierce as a badger's snarl when he finally spoke.

"When do we start?"

-= LP =-  
_To Be Continued_  
-= LP =-


End file.
